


Forgive Me, My Brother

by avgust



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms
Genre: Angst, Gen, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-13
Updated: 2017-01-13
Packaged: 2018-09-17 07:51:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,364
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9312341
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/avgust/pseuds/avgust
Summary: Faramir misses Boromir, and reflects on their forbidden love before he is sent to Osgiliath. This is a really short story.





	

The stars flashed then dimmed while the gentle dawn breeze rustled the frozen golden-bronze leaves that still clung stubbornly to the skeleton trees of this late fall night. The breeze that was constant carried within it the bittersweet aroma of the dewy earth and captured the dying leaves, whirling them around within its scented constant southward stream. The leaves rained down as the breeze transformed into a wind, no longer scented, but cold and forceful in its intensification.

The solitary figure, who was wrapped in a subdued yet heavy brown cloak, closed his eyes to the shift of the wind. He was alone, though in truth if he were to step just further down from where he sat he would find the path that would lead him back to his father’s house. It seemed to him though even if he were to stand in the midst of the crowded markets and streets of Minas Tirith, he would still only find solitude amidst the white stones and marble people that inhabited that city. 

The sounds of the rustling leaves that masked the howl of the wind drove out that scream that reverberated through his mind. His life was a mistake, that much was true, and there was nothing that he could do to stop the downward spiral that it was. He wanted nothing more than to run and let his legs carry him to that far off land where his brother now headed. He should be there with him, by his side, wrapped in his arms under the expansive mantle of the night sky's stars. But he knew he couldn’t run, for there really was nowhere for him to hide. His father was steward of all the land of Gondor. Besides, that was probably what his father expected of him. He sighed as he realized just how trapped he was, trapped since the day that he was born. 

Reluctantly he rose as the new sun peaked its head above the horizon, signifying the new day as well as lighting the sky with its fiery pinks, oranges, and yellows. As much as he wished to reflect and linger in this solitary spot, he knew that he would be missed if he were to stay away for too long. Soon he would be expected to rise and sit at his father’s table, although he had not slept at all during the night.

With heavy, unwilling steps he made himself walk back to his home. From outside the outer walls he walked into the city, climbing the levels until he reached the palace where his father resided. The guards who were posted at the door turned questioning heads as he entered into the halls of his father, Steward of Gondor. Silently he passed through corridors, pausing briefly before his brother’s door. He took a deep breath, feeling a sudden void strike through to his very core. The room was empty, his brother had gone, leaving behind only empty feelings, and sleepless nights for him to pass in solitude. Sighing deeply he forced himself to continue. With a heavy mind and an aching heart, he finally reached the closed door of his chambers. He entered the pitch-black room, closed off from the rising sun behind a heavy velvet curtain. 

It wasn’t long after he had entered his room that two servants came, hands clasped around lit candles, whispering words they did not expect anyone else to hear. They gasped; a little surprised to see him standing where they had not expected to see anyone. Before they could collect themselves, he gestured for them to leave, not needing their services of drawing back the curtains, nor drawing his morning bath. They bowed, setting aside the candles before leaving in silence, just as he had entered.

He reached for the light from the candles pausing to let his hand feel the heat of the flame. The fire's warmth burned into his calloused hands uncomfortably, before he put it out. In a repeat action his hand was above the second flame, but he stopped before he put it out, having finally realized that he was not alone within his room. He turned slowly; holding the candle whose light slowly illuminated the face of his father standing there before him.

“Where were you?” The mocking question meant to degrade him, void of any parental concern. 

“Father, it is not what you think!” He answered in defense.

“You dare to humiliate me with your careless midnight rendezvous!” His father’s voice raised in anger.

“I was alone father!” His protest fell deaf to his father’s ears.

“Faramir, I will not tolerate your lies.” His father’s heavy hand landed across his face. The sound was hallow, the pain was absent. “You will leave this morning, just as I have asked you to. Go to Osgiliath, make sure that it does not fall. Make sure that your brother‘s victory was not in vain. I do not want to hear of a failure from you again.” And no more words were said by Denethor who left his youngest son’s room.

 

\-----------------------------------

Denethor failed to arrive when Faramir mounted his horse later that morning. He and his men were leaving now that the sun was higher within the late fall sky and the day was not as new. A small host of men, who were under his control, stood waiting to make the march from Minas Tirith to Osgiliath, the northern outpost of Gondor. 

Faramir scanned the faces of the crowd knowing that his father would not be there. 

“It is just as well.” He sighed as he let his eyes fall away from the crowd. His brother Boromir too was absent as he had been sent to Rivendell. How Faramir had wished that he had been allowed to go with Boromir to Rivendell. He would be looking into that handsome face, so brave and strong, but showing just to him that soft and tender side. Despite himself, Faramir smiled, if only but a second. It was only Boromir who could cause him to forget his reflective woes. 

Alone, he turned his horse towards the city’s gates as he led his company of men out from Minas Tirith. ‘It is better this way.’ He reminded himself. The only beauty he had ever found in the world was the forbidden love from his brother. And he knew that what had been would never be allowed to continue. His father would make sure of that. And as he continued to think he let his mind drift to the future where perhaps, just maybe he would die a hero, protecting the kingdom of Gondor for his father. Maybe then he would earn his father’s love. But what of Boromir? Would his hero's death be too much for only person who loved him?

He was torn away from those thoughts as Beregond came to ride beside him. “My captain, let me ride with you. Let me help you fortify Osgiliath.”

"Nay Beregond, I cannot let you do that. It is most likely that none of us will return.”

“That is why I must accompany you. Do not leave me to my worry!”

Faramir motioned for his men to continue while he stopped his horse and dismounted. 

Beregond grabbed onto Faramir’s arm, pulling him close so he could whisper in his ear. "Remember, Faramir, your brother loves you. He would not have you throw your life away."

Faramir only closed his eyes, while he thought about Boromir. He remembered those nights, laying in his arms. They were the only nights in which he had felt calm and peace. The only times he had ever felt what love was.

"I made a promise to him, Faramir. That I would keep you safe. He asked me to watch over."

But Faramir only shook his head. "No Beregond, my heart tells me to put you in no danger, and would tell me that there is something yet that you must do. Stay in Minas Tirith, and let your heart believe that we will met again."

"But Faramir, I made a promise…"

But Faramir had already mounted his horse, and he set his eyes on the gate before him.


End file.
